randomrabbit's Diaryland Diary
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Ich habe angst
Ah the Olympics. Joy of joys. Where else does one get to see so many people doing stuff quick, lifting things that are heavy, throwing, jumping high and far?
I can maybe see being able to run quick as sometimes handy and a couple of weeks ago I had to carry a load of paving stones up the garden, which would have been a lot easier if I was really good at lifting things. Though actually maybe not as they all have really thick legs and I�d have to walk like some sort of bandy-legged tit. But anyway, when does jumping high/far ever come in handy these days? If you like jumping so much do it in private and get a job, don�t do it for a living. And then what do they do when they�re past jumping? They coach someone else to jump. It�s a vicious circle of silliness that needs to stop people. That said the girl pole vaulter (are you a pole vaulter? No I�m German and how did you know my name was Walter? Ho ho ho. This diary now co-written by Billy Connolly) who has the world record does have the most deliciously pert bottom I think I�ve ever seen.
Apologies in advance for the I�ve been on holiday and this is what I did type entry but I�ve been on holiday and this is what I did:
We went to Berlin for 4 days. They only went and put the beer festival on the same weekend as they did last year. Fucking bastards.
I like that pic. Just because we look like a right bunch of twats. We�ve all got our wanky little glasses you have to cart from bar to bar (otherwise you have to pay a deposit and it�s far too much fannying about) and Kev�s come in his PE shorts bless him. Me, Tom, Kev, Baz, Chris. Clearly happy to have our picture taken.
It�s about a mile and a half of ale from start to finish so we stuck to the same silly rules as last year just to make it a bit more challenging to do the whole distance. You can�t walk past 3 bars. So if you pass 2 you have to go to the third even if it�s revolting banana beer. Oh and you can�t throw your beer away even if it is revolting banana beer and it tastes like FUCKING BANANAS. The most troublesome rule was: If there�s a pretty girl serving you have to go there. We got snagged up for a bloody age when they cracked out the pretty nurses.
And she didn�t help the situation either. Scared I think is the expression. I�d just shown her my disappearing hand trick.
Chris looks like Chubby Brown.
That was outside our last year�s beer of the beer festival winner. That could be catchier. Disappointingly and oddly (tequila beer) it�s French. You get it everywhere now though but we saw it first (probably not really).
But what did we make this year�s beer of the beer festival winning beer I�m quite sure you�re thinking. Erdinger Dunkel (dark). I�ve had Erdinger before but never the dark. Bloody bloody bloody good stuff. You should go buy some and binge drink it down the park with the kids. Because we�re so funny we decided �going for a dunkel� would mean going for a poo.
I�m fairly certain this is the king of Germany. The parrot was on wheels and he pulled it about the place with him.
Tom apparently cupping my testicles.
I lost count of the number of bratties I ate but I reckon somewhere between 1 and a million. Beer and sausage a fat arse doth make.
There were loads of Brits there this year, mostly on stag weekends, which was annoying even though, you know, we�re British. But I liked not many knew about it, it made me feel superior and I could say �Oh, you go to Munich, that�s a bit too commercial for me.� We must have been told half a dozen times off different groups of lads that if we go a couple of stops up on the underground there are really pretty whores. AND it�s legal. Like you�re going to suddenly say, �What we stood here for lads? Pretty whores!� then bomb it up the road. If I wanted whores you shit there�s a load loiter on the corner of the road where I work (I�m a pimp) (not really). And they speak the same language so I wouldn�t have to try and communicate to them via a lavish mime that I�d like them to spank me dressed in this sausage outfit I happen to have brought.
Good times though. We spent the days mooching about the place doing the touristy bit - looking at things, visiting places, going in stuff. I had a poo in the Jewish museum. Most of Saturday was spent at the Sachsenhausen concentration camp. Not the most fun I�ve ever had it has to be said. Then the nights and all day Sunday were spent a beer festivaling.
I did make the mistake of letting my mum have my house key while we were away. I�m still turning up twee little touches about the place. So far I�ve found: A lace curtain up at the back window; a flowery throw on the settee (not hard to miss � my settee USED to be red); matching flowery cushion covers. A fancy looking flowery towel over the side of the bath THAT HAS NO DISCERNABLE PURPOSE; A massive placemat on the coffee table (where I tend to eat and spill food everywhere so maybe I�ll forgive her that) � plate and flower design, natch; A matching tray; Poppy pictures hung on wall and everything in the food cupboards moved all about the fucking place. They�re clean now but it takes 10 minutes to find anything. Bloody mothers, eh.
4:31 p.m. - 2008-08-08
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